


Scars

by CrystalizedCherry



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cuddling, Gen, How Ja'far got his scars, Hurt/Comfort, Jafar's past, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmare, Sham Lash, Sinja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalizedCherry/pseuds/CrystalizedCherry
Summary: Perhaps he would’ve worked harder on his mission had he known what the punishment for failing was.How Ja'far got the scars on his thighs.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Magi or its characters. I only own this fic.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have agreed to spar with Sharrkan.

Ja’far winced in pain as he examined the jagged scars on his thighs. Blood was slowly trickling out at the edges of the newly-reopened gash. Although he had won the match, victory came at a price.

He opened the drawer and took out the bandages he stashed there, dabbing at his wounds with a wet cloth and slowly patching them up.

Ja’far cursed softly under his breath. His body was littered with old scars, but these two were a constant reminder of his bloody past.

That night, he was plagued by nightmares.

* * *

_“Have you eliminated your target?”_

_“…No, sir.”_

_“No?”_

_Shaka’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though that expression wasn’t for long._

_“You do realize that we have to punish those who fail to complete their missions, don’t you?” he said, looking regretful yet slightly… excited?_

_Ja'far said nothing. He knew that he would have to suffer the consequences – he just didn’t know what the consequences were._

_Perhaps he would’ve worked harder on his mission had he known what the punishment for failing was._

* * *

“Ja'far? Ja'far! Are you okay?” someone was saying worriedly, but Ja’far couldn’t hear him, the sound merely white noise.

* * *

_He screamed._

_The pain was so overwhelming that he couldn't even breathe._

_Someone was holding a knife and was slowly dragging it down the insides of his right thigh, laughing._

_Ja’far struggled against the chains that bound him, thrashing. He couldn’t process anything but the white-hot pain and the blood –_ his _blood -  dripping on the floor._

_“Now now, you should've known better than to fail,” his torturer said gleefully._

_In some part of his brain, he was disgusted at the pleasure in the man’s voice. The suffering of others wasn’t something that interested the assassin, no matter how he liked to act._

_The pain finally stopped, and Ja’far went limp, breathing shallow and ragged._

_“Tired already? But we’re not done yet~” the voice said in an almost sing-song voice._

_Rough hands grasped his thighs and pulled them apart further, fingers tracing the milky white skin on his left thigh._

_“Almost a shame we have to cut this up, ya know?”_

_Ja’far’s eyes widened and he screamed again, the man starting on his other thigh. The edges of his vision went hazy, and he grasped desperately at the comfort he knows that unconsciousness will bring._

_“Going unconscious, eh? I can’t let that happen, that wouldn’t be fun, now, would it?”_

_His vision went white with pain, thrashing once again, wishing that he were dead, anything to make the agony stop._

_After what seemed like hours, the torture finally stopped. Blinking through the tears, Ja’far stared at his thighs. They were torn and bloody, a gruesome sight that would’ve caused less trained assassins to vomit._

_His hands were released from the shackles and he sagged, exhausted from the blood loss. Someone thrust a needle into his hands, ordering him to stich up the wounds._

_The pain of the stitches was minor compared to what he had just gone through, and he limped back to his corner in the facility all Sham Lash members shared. Sparring and training continued as usual the next day – weakness was not tolerated, after all._

_He never failed to eliminate another target after that._

* * *

Ja’far woke up gasping, his white hair plastered to his forehead and his pillow drenched with cold sweat. He shivered, feeling uncomfortably cold.

Sinbad was kneeling by his bed, gold eyes filled with worry and sadness.

“Nightmare?”

Ja’far nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

Sinbad drew him into a hug, fingers tracing small circles on his advisor’s back until he stopped trembling.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the king murmured.

“Could you stay the night?”

Ja’far winced at the way his voice cracked at the end, hating the weakness he was showing in front of his king.

“Of course, anything for you.”

The ex-assassin fell asleep that night in the arms of the king, and for one night, everything in the world seemed to be alright.         

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated :)


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